A Story of God and All of Us - By Roma Downey Page 0,118

their newly purchased sacrificial animals. Pilate starts to wish that he had stayed in Caesarea, if only to be away from that wretched Caiaphas and his political maneuverings. But if he had, this Jesus character might very well have caused a riot, and by the time Pilate responded in force, Jerusalem might have burned to the ground. It had happened before, and it could happen again. No... Pilate is glad he is in Jerusalem, determined to survive the next few days and return to his villa by the sea. But Claudia is right: Pilate doesn't want Jesus' blood on his hands.

Claudia places a hand on his shoulder, though she doesn't say a word, knowing that her husband often needs to focus his thoughts before taking action.

"Get me Caiaphas," Pilate says after a moment. "I have a plan."

Pilate greets Caiaphas and the elders with thinly veiled contempt. "I have met your Jesus and have come to the conclusion that he is guilty of nothing more than being deranged. That is not a crime in Rome."

"He's broken the law," Caiaphas protests.

" Your law," Pilate replies smoothly. "Not Caesar's." The governor stares 295

hard at Caiaphas. "Teach this man some respect. Give him forty lashes and dump him outside the city walls. That is my decree."

"Nothing more? Prefect, I cannot be held responsible for what the people will do if you release a man who has broken our sacred laws. Especially on this day, when our eyes are on God."

"The people?" Pilate responds sarcastically. Pilate knows his next move, even as Caiaphas tries to take control. But Pilate speaks first. "Caesar decrees that I can release a prisoner at Passover. I shall let 'the people'

decide which of the prisoners in my jails shall be crucified, and which shall be set free."

Caiaphas knows he's been tricked. He's too stunned to speak.

"Send for the prisoner," Pilate orders.

A crowd is now gathered at the gate outside Pilate's residence, peering through a large steel grate into the empty courtyard. Word has gone out that Jesus will be lashed. Many like to witness public brutality and revel in the carnival-like proceedings that accompany a good beating.

Jesus is dragged into the courtyard by two Roman soldiers. His face is crusted in blood, and his eyes are now swollen shut by a fresh round of beatings.

Mary, his mother, gasps. She stands outside in the crowd, peering into the courtyard through the grate.

Jesus is tied to the whipping post. His robes are ripped from his back, exposing the flesh. The soldiers now retrieve their whips. A single lash is an exercise in agony, sure to scar a man for life.

Jesus is about to endure thirty-nine.

"They're going to kill him," whispers Mary to Mary Magdalene, her heart breaking. John looks down at the two women protectively. The two soldiers stand ready to whip, one on each side of Jesus. They will take turns. A third soldier enters the courtyard, carrying an abacus. It will be his job to make a careful tally of the blows and report back to Rome that precisely thirty-nine were inflicted.

Jesus looks across to his mother. Her pain is enormous, but his eyes 296

lock with hers and she feels a strong connection with him. It is as if he is reassuring her and reminding her that this is how it must be.

The lashings begin. Jesus does not cry out, even as the crowd gasps at the severity of what they are witnessing. The harrowing punishment and ordeal Jesus is to endure has been preordained. Isaiah, the prophet, once wrote that there would come a savior who "was pierced through for our

transgressions. He was crushed for our iniquities. And by his scourging, we are healed."

From a window overlooking the courtyard, Pilate and Claudia watch the ghastly proceedings. She winces with each flay of the lash, but Pilate has seen many such beatings. "Its as if he knows this must happen," marvels Pilate.

One last abacus bead slides from left to right. Thirty-nine lashes are now in the books.

Jesus hangs on the pole, barely alive but definitely breathing. When his hands are untied, he does not slump to the ground but stands upright, beaten but unbroken.

Now he is taken back to the dungeon. The guards, never known to show kindness toward their prisoners--especially Jews--have been busy while he was away. To have this delusional Jesus in their midst claiming to be a king is the stuff of folly, and they can't wait to take advantage. One guard has woven a crown out